


SOMEHOW

by thoughtsdemise



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Consensual, Fingering, Hate fucking, Humiliation, M/M, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Shifting perspectives, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Violence, aggressive sex, dark fic smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 04:55:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18004181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoughtsdemise/pseuds/thoughtsdemise
Summary: Banging out the aggression.





	SOMEHOW

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a particular prompt. However, I've not been told if I can connect the dots or not so yeah. =)

SOMEHOW

Summary:  Banging out the aggression.

Verse:  IDW Transformers

Rating: E

Ship:  Rodimus/Prowl

Characters:  Prowl, Rodimus

Tags:  sticky sexual interfacing, rough sex, aggressive sex, violence, hate fucking, humiliation, consensual, oral sex, fingering, dark fic smut, shifting perspectives

A/N:  I'm gonna preface this with a stern reminder to **_READ THE TAGS_ ** and the **_BACK BUTTON IS YOUR FRIEND_ **.  Seriously these two fuckers get down right nasty verbally and physically violent, nothing too graphic though.  There's mention of the TF version of whore. I'm not sure how else to warn that you're about to read a quick dark smut bang, so if you made it this far and still want to have a go then enjoy the smut that yoinked my ass to spiral and pencil and was damn written between one blink and the next.

Snarling engines echo through the bowels of the Lost Light.  A heavy metal twang is quick to follow. An outraged yell is raised after as white-plated hands and black-plated forearms impact into an orange and yellow back.  A sport engine revs and bodily systems’ heat skyrockets, but the hands remain firmly in place.

Rodimus’ engine is cut off with a gasping choke when Prowl pushes his body flush against Rodimus’, keeping him secure so Prowl can lift a hand to Rodimus’ head to shove it against the wall.

“Fragger,” Rodimus gets out a moment before Prowl draws his head back enough to slam it into the wall.  Rodimus’ vision glitches as his processor is given a good whack.

Prowl leans his own head forward to press his lips to an audio.  His empty optical socket aligned to be the first thing for Rodimus to see when his vision clears of static.

“Do I have your attention now, captain?”  Prowl chuckles when a low growl is the only answer he gets.  “I seem to remember warning you all the way back in Nyon I wasn't a mech to fuck with.”

Rodimus shivers at the use of human slang, in particular that word; Prowl used such words so rarely that it always got attention.  He focuses in on the empty black socket, shivering. Prowl had come to the Lost Light to have their medical staff fix it.

Prowl presses his body closer into Rodimus’ back.  He places a kiss onto the audio receptor before licking it.  He rumbles a pleased sigh when Rodimus continues to quake and shiver in equal parts pleasure and revulsion.  Prowl lowers a hand to glide over an orange aft which arches into the glancing touch.

“Or maybe that's what you're aiming for.”

Fingers slip between thighs that spread at the barest of touch.  Prowl drums those fingers against Rodimus’ modesty panel.

“What do you say, _Roddy_?”  Prowl says Rodimus’ name with a laughing sneer.  “You looking to finally spread those legs for me like you've already done for every ‘Con this side of the Benzuli Expanse.”

Prowl grits his teeth when Rodimus slams the side of his head into them.  This gives Rodimus just enough leverage and space to buck Prowl off with a lithe twist of his body.  He puts as much distance between himself and Prowl within the confines space of the empty weapons storage closet Prowl had thrown him into.

He heaves a few vents to clear his processor from the impact and to slow the way his spark trembles in its chamber.  He shifts his stance slightly lower and keeps sharp eyes on Prowl who is turned just enough to see him over a sensor panel as rubs at his mouth.

Rodimus groans inwardly at himself when a shot of lust spikes through the core of his spark when Prowl levels a firmly smug look at him like he was some sort of new frame trying to take down the biggest mech in the yard for sport.

Okay so he might just get off on pushing the buttons of this particular mech.  And yeah those times licking and sucking in Prowl's finger whenever he put it to Rodimus’ lips to shush him might not have been the brightest ideas to fluff Prowl's plating.  Primus let's not mention the times dancing his fingers over taught sensor panels no matter how many sensitivity to frame type differences lectures delivered by both Rung and Ultra Magnus he had to sit through just to set Prowl's anger boiling higher after being stripped down one side and up the other about some stupid stunt or an other he had successfully, mostly, pulled off during the war.   _‘Got a lot of those stupid fragging_ write-ups _and brig time.  Fragger probably liked seeing me confined til I went glitched in the processor.’_  But Rodimus sure as Unicron shit was not going to let Prowl, or any mech for that matter his processor hastily adds, talk slag about the Decepticons on his ship, ex or current.

Prowl turns to face Rodimus fully.  A hand resting on his hip. His one optic keen on the way Rodimus is crouched.  An indulgent smile crossed his lips as his fingers caress the hip they lay against.

“Why, Roddy,” he purrs, “I would have never labeled you as a mech who loved to use his spike.”  He lowers the hand to slide between his legs, glancing over the edge of his own modesty panel. “Too lazy of a mech to do any real fucking to get a partner off enough for them to overload.”

Rodimus straightens a bit out of his defensive stance with an angry huff.  He opens his mouth to spit something just as vile at Prowl but doesn’t get the chance.Prowl is able to flip him around again to press his front into the wall.  Rodimus rests his forehead against the solid surface to focus on himself as he feels his arm yanked back. A firm hand presses in to a weak spot between his flares.  He shivers when he feels the heat of Prowl’s body pull away from his own except for the two points.

He grunts when he hears a few heaving vents from Prowl.  “What? Old enforcer training finally kicking in?” Rodimus winces slightly when fingers dig into his back.  He turns his head enough to look at Prowl’s face. A warning clear in the mech’s single optic. Well fuck he was always flirting with death so why stop now.  “Didn’t Sentinel teach you how to suck a spike right or were you just to busy riding it?” Rodimus feels the hand on his wrist crushing delicate components. He really should stop, his processor was yelling at him as even he had clued in on the fact that Prowl had gone completely silent.  But ya know that mouth usually ran before the thought was fully processed. “Huh, must not have been all that great of a frag or you wouldn’t of needed so much help keeping Optimus in line.”

Rodimus’ worlds flips, turns upside down as he is thrown against one wall and then dragged up and thrown against another, several times.  He groans and slides to his knees, panting. Rodimus could feel a few fractures along some of the struts in his body. Frag, Ratchet was going to be mad.

Prowl snarls his engine and grabs Rodimus by the throat and lifts him to nail him to the wall again.  At this point Rodimus had lost track of how many times Prowl had “nailed” him. Rodimus cracks a smile at the internal joke even as Prowl glowers at him.

Rodimus continues to smile and waits for the clenched fist he sees in the lower corner of his glitching vision to punch him square in the face.  But the fist relaxes and fingers uncurl, Rodimus stumbles as Prowl pulls back a step but is able to catch himself from falling back to the floor.

Prowl closes his optic and shakes his head.  He opens it and focuses it on a weary Rodimus.  He lifts a hand to lay a few fingers against Rodimus’ lips.

“You need a lesson.”  He fingers Rodimus’ lips before sliding his hand around to the back of Rodimus’ head, slightly bent knees putting Rodimus at about Prowl’s height.  Prowl draws Rodimus forward with a quick tug and kisses him. His tongue forcing its way into Rodimus’ mouth to block any more words coming out.

He pulls away enough to chuff a sigh as a ping hits his comm link from Ultra Magnus.  “Seems your puppy is whining and looking for his master, so you won’t be getting a full lesson.”  Prowl pushes Rodimus back into the wall. He laughs at the weary look he’s leveled when Prowl lowers a hand to hook under one of Rodimus’ knees.  “But there should be enough time to teach you how to use a spike.”

Prowl presses in between Rodimus thighs.  He grins as the mech’s valve cover clicks aside.  His spike pressurizes at the heat that fans over his plating, but he waits.  He waits for Rodimus to start to wiggle his hips. He waits for Rodimus to begin to whine and press their bodies closer.

“What?”  His smile is sharp when Rodimus snaps his teeth at him.

“Fuck me already, you!”

Rodimus’ voice breaks on a cry as Prowl slams his spike into him.  He relishes the look of pained pleasure and lusting hatred that fills Rodimus’ optics and field.  It’s the desperate want for release that echoes his own that has Prowl pulling his hips back and roughly shoving them forward.

Prowl pushes his heavy frame fully into Rodimus to trap him against the all as he pounded into the mech.  Rodimus dug his fingers into Prowl’s sensor panels and wrapped his legs around Prowl’s pistoning hips. Both let go of everything but the feel of a spike filling a slicked valve, and a valve squeezing about a rigid spike.

Orange and yellow streaks decorate the wall and black and white plating.  The sound of screeching metal is nearly drowned out by gasping screams.

“Would you shut up!”

Prowl pumps into Rodimus harder.  Little fragger had just overloaded twice and was on the way to a third.  Prowl huffs and twists his body to fling Rodimus to the floor. A protest begins, but Prowl grabs Rodimus’ head and thrusts his spike into the open mouth and down a suddenly constricting throat intake.

“Much better.”

He rolls his head back with a sigh when he feels fingers dig on his hips.  Rodimus struggles for a moment with the intrusion into his throat but soon settles when Prowl rolls his head forward again and gives him that particular look Prowl had been giving him since Nyon that always lit him up with large doses of anger and lust.  The look that said Prowl would crush him and eat him alive if he pushed too far.

Prowl uses Rodimus’ mouth to jack off.  He smiles as he watches brilliant blue optics fill with defiance.  Fuck but he wanted to drag this little transfluid depository back to Luna 1 to teach him some real lessons.  But another series of pings from Rodimus’ little puppy has Prowl huffing and flat out laying into Rodimus so hard with each thrust, the mech had to cling tightly to Prowl’s pistoning hips for balance.

A spurt of searing fluid hits the back of Rodimus’ mouth and slips down his throat.  Before Rodimus can wonder if Prowl was going to release his full load into the mouth around his spike, Rodimus is pushed back with Prowl’s spike being pulled from his mouth with a pop and splashes of transfluid coat his face and chest.

Rodimus pants.  His hands smack the floor as he tumbles forward.  He shivers as a final stream of hot fluid hits that back of his lowered head to slime its way down his neck and back to the dents Prowl had left between his flares.

He raises his head to look at Prowl who was casually leaning against a wall that was streaked with orange and yellow paint, and also bore deep gouge marks when Prowl had really laid into him with a painful slam of hips.  The slick sound of a hand traveling over a spike has Rodimus’ optics sliding down Prowl’s body and training them on the movement of a black hand.

“I’ll give you this, Roddy,” Prowl heaves a steadying vent,  “You might suck as a solider, but you look good kneeling and covered in fluids.”  Prowl cracks a grin when he spots Rodimus pressing his thighs together, still on the verge of that third overload.  He straightens and gives his spike a few more squeezing strokes before sending a command to forcefully depressurize it.  He chuckles as Rodimus unknowingly whines in protest, He snaps a still of the scene in front of him to use late to jack off to as his interfacing systems scream at him for the forced shut down.

“I’d remind you not to,” he lick his lips, “fuck with me, but damn if that didn’t get you right where you belonged.”

Prowl leans forward to run his thumb over Rodimus’ lips before shoving it inside,  A pleased rumble escaping him when Rodimus automatically licks and sucks on it. With his systems still caught up in the blinding need for overload, Rodimus ignore the seething hate that rages behind the rampage of lust.

“Yes right where you belong.”  Prowl’s single optic darkens in shade as he pulls his thumb from Rodimus’ mouth with a pop and straightens.  “Begging on your knees like the little piece of shareware you always should have been.”

A gasp leaves Rodimus as the rage tramples past the lust.  He watches Prowl straighten and make his way to the door.

“Mm.  Rodimus _Prime_ , did that matrix feel that good stuffed up your valve?”  Prowl throws over his shoulder as he leaves, the door snapping shut behind him.

Rodimus’ fists slam into the ground.  His voice rises in rage as he curses Prowl.  He pants, his body heavy with unreleased heat,  He shoves a hand between his legs. Four fingers ramming inside him as his thumb presses brutally against his anterior node.  His teeth dig hard enough into his lips to draw energon as he frags himself with his own hand. He cries out in frustration as the overload stays just out of reach but almost there.  His processor pinging back blank data fills for a desperate request of anything to over that edge. Finally Rodimus’ vision is flooded with the look Prowl gives him that makes lust and anger collide in his spark.

He sobs and falls forward as the lackluster overload hits his rage inflamed systems.  His body shakes as the remaining globs of Prowl’s transfluid work their way into smaller seams.

Rodimus shuts off his optics and gives into the blankness of post overload reset which quiets all other emotions.  He sends a command to lock the door as he allows his body to initiate a shut down sequence. He’d deal with that fucker Prowl later.  Right now he’d rest then sneak to his private wash rack for a good scrub down. Then oh then! His processor fires one last thought at him before going blank.  He’d order a change in heading coordinates for Luna 1 and show that puffed up scrub what it meant to serve a Prime.


End file.
